Clara's Letters to Leah
by TaurusPrincess
Summary: One of the newies has contracted tuberculosis and has been sent away to hopefully get better. This is his story of his first experience with true love.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I own everyone in this story except for Matthew. Disney owns him. You'll eventually find out who he is (he, he(). I didn't use Newsy talk in this story since there would really be only one person who would be talking like that. Please R&R! Now enjoy "Clara's Letters to Leah"  
  
**  
  
~Deep in the earth my love is lying  
  
And I must weep alone. ~  
  
(["Deep In The Earth"]  
  
Edgar Allan Poe)  
  
  
  
The carriage came to a sudden stop on the muddy road. The door slowly opened to reveal a crisp autumn day in the Appalachian Mountains of New York to the young man inside of the old carriage. As he stepped outside, he pulled his worn coat closer to him. It did little to keep him warm.  
  
The harsh breeze rustled his brown hair. Ice cold air wrapped around his lungs as he drew in a long slow breath. He raised his handkerchief up to his mouth to cough, making sure to wipe away the small trace of blood in the corner of his mouth.  
  
It was that same cough that had brought him to this death filled place. He should be in Manhattan right now with his friends selling papes, experiencing life, finding his true love, instead of here, a place that reeked of the helpless and dying. He was only sixteen and yet he had been sent here to die before he could experience the one thing he had never experienced before, true love. A feeling he would never be able to experience.  
  
He was perfectly fine a few months ago during the strike, but then he developed the cough. He had tried to play it off as just a simple cold and fatigue, but it only worked for a couple of weeks. Soon he was spending most of his nights up coughing or sweating do to the fever, and with what little sleep he did get, he would wake up in the morning to a blood soaked pillow. During the day he would nearly pass out form lack of energy until one day he did in Central Park. He awoke to find himself back in the Lodging House surround by a doctor and his friends. The doctor told him was slowly dying and that it might be best to send him to The Cottages and quarantine his friends. His friends thought it was a better idea than to sit and watch him wither away, and so here he was, at The Cottages, his deathbed in the mountains.  
  
"Mr. Keller I presume." The voice jostled him from his thoughts. An elderly lady walked over to Matthew pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders as the wind picked up. "I'm Mrs. Shepherd and I run The Cottages. Let me take your bag and show you to your cottage." He gave the small tattered bag that contained all his worldly possessions to the old lady and followed her to the first cottage. Two people in cotton pajamas with thin blankets wrapped around them, sat on the porch staring at Matthew as he entered the cottage. "You'll be sharing the cottage with three other people and a nurse-maid."  
  
"Where's the other person?" Matthew asked.  
  
"She's over by the fire place, more than likely writing." Mrs. Shepherd spoke in a less than enthusiastic tone. "Poor thing won't do anything that might help her get better. There is a pair of uniformed clothing on your bed. Sitting is almost over with and dinner will be served in the main cottage immediately after." Matthew's eyes had been wandering over the simple cabin frequently stopping on the girl by the fireplace when Mrs. Shepherd's words caught his attention.  
  
"Sitting?"  
  
"Sitting in the two hours a day where you sit outside. Now where was I? Oh yes. Lights out is at nine…" Mrs. Shepherd continued on as Matthew's mind drifted back to the girl in front of the dwindling fire. The dull light created a mysterious aura around her as she wrote in her journal, oblivious to the world around her. "I believe that is everything. Do you have any questions?" How could he have any questions? He'd been so busy trying to figure out the girl that he didn't hear a thing Mrs. Shepherd said. All he remembered was something about ice baths and bricks on your chest.  
  
"No ma'am. None that I can think of now."  
  
"Good. If you think of any questions, I'm sure Eric or Ashley will be happy to answer them for you. I'll leave you to change and I will see you at dinner. Eric and Ashley will show you to the main cottage." And with that, Mrs. Shepherd left the cottage.  
  
Matthew's brown eyes reluctantly left the girl and landed on the place he would be sleeping. He carefully picked up the gray uniformed clothing and examined them. They were a lot thinner than what he usually wore during the winter back in Manhattan.  
  
"They're supposed to be thin. Allows the cold air to get to you." Matthew turned around to see a boy and girl, the same two that sat on the porch, enter into the cottage. "Hi. I'm Eric and this is my sister…"  
  
"Ashley. Nice to meet you." Ashley stuck her hand out which Matthew took as her brother rolled his eyes.  
  
"Nice to meet you both. I'm Matthew, but my friends back home call me…" 


	2. Chapter 2

"… Specs."  
  
"Are these the same friends that sent you to this retched place?" A new voice entered the trio's conversation. Specs turned his head towards the girl in front of the fire. She continued to write as she talked. "The same friends that have been there been there for you, would do anything for you, and now have betrayed you?"  
  
"Clara, don't go scaring the poor boy on his first day here!" Ashley said, her eyes driving daggers threw the girl. "Just ignore her. She feels the only reason she came here is to die."  
  
"And it is! Have you ever known anyone to ever live through consumption? They all come here, they all die. And soon you, your brother, me, and even this new boy will find ourselves covered with six feet of dirt." Clara stood up and slammed her journal closed. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to dinner." She placed her dark blue journal on the night table next to her bed and left the humble cottage. The three newly acquainted people stood in silence not sure what to say after an outburst like that. Finally Eric spoke.  
  
"So, shall we go to dinner?"  
  
"Yes, I think we shall." Ashley reached out to take Specs' arm in order to lead him to the main cottage, but he pulled a way at her warm touch.  
  
"Um… I not very hungry. I think I'll stay here and unpack." The fact was, Specs was famished, but his curiosity was getting the best of him. Something about the worn blue journal called for his attention.  
  
"Do you want us to bring you back something?" Ashley smiled at the new boy.  
  
"Sure. I guess." Specs' curiosity continued to nag at him.  
  
"Alright. We'll see you after dinner." Eric said as he eagerly dragged his sister out of the cottage. Specs breathed a sigh of relief when the two finally left. He carefully began to pull a few things out of his bag and place them on his nightstand; a picture, a newspaper clipping, a book, a journal of his own, all mementos from his life in Manhattan. A life that he hoped to return to soon.  
  
As Specs unpacked his things, he tried to ignore the curiosity tugging at the back of his mind. He was failing miserably at this. Finally, he gave into his curiosity. Carefully walking over to Clara's bed, Specs made sure no one was coming back from dinner. He picked up the worn blue object and opened to the first page. A worn picture fluttered down to the ground. Specs bent down and examined the black and white photo with three people in it. A man stood behind a girl seated in a chair. His hand lovingly placed on her shoulder. In the lap of the girl sat a baby in a white christening gown. As Specs looked at the picture, he came to realize that the girl in the picture was Clara and the other two had to be her family.  
  
Specs became confused when he felt a twang of jealousy creep inside of him. He didn't even know Clara, yet he was jealous of her husband. Pushing the thought away, Specs placed the picture back into the journal and flipped back to the first entry. Sympathy for the girl gripped his soul as he read. 


	3. Chapter 3

9/20/1899  
  
My Dearest Leah,  
  
They ripped you out of my arms two days ago when you were just nine months old. I will never get to see you grow up for I will be dead in a few months. I will never get a chance to know you nor you me. I'm sure my mother will tell you stories about me, but it wouldn't be the same; therefore, I begin writing this journal on my first day in this death hole so when you're old enough to understand, you will be able to read my words, my love for you.  
  
I think you should know everything, beginning, middle, and the horrible end if my story, our story. I, Clara Grace McArthur Thomas, was born on April 20, 1881 in Good Ground, Long Island*. When I was 12, my family moved to Manhattan when my father was offered a job with the Sun. For the next four years, I lived the life of a normal middle class girl; playing with my friends, going to school, trying to keep my little sister out of trouble, helping with the chores, until I meet Ian Thomas.  
  
I fell in love with Ian, your father, on the first day I met him. I loved everything about him; his looks, how he would help anyone in need, the way he would write me letters everyday even if he had seen me that day, and most of all the way he sang. I remember when you were just a week old; the only way we could get you to sleep was if Ian rocked you in Papa's chair singing 'You Are My Sunshine.' I will always picture that scene whenever I think of you and your father.  
  
We were married shortly after. It was a beautiful wedding. All of our friends and family were there. Your father said I looked like a princess in my wedding gown. It was long and flowing with lace trim. My hair was done up in a French twist with baby's breath through out it.  
  
As you can guess, you, Leah Erin Thomas, came as a blessing into our lives. You were our beautiful little angel. You were so tiny and perfect in every way. Everything about our lives way perfect for the first five months of our lives.  
  
You and I had to go lie with my mother when you were five months old because your father was…  
  
"What do you think your doing?"  
  
**  
  
(*)-There is no longer a place in Long Island called Good Ground. Thanks to my friend's great-great grandfather, the name was changed when he got pissed off at some people in NYC. It is now called Hampton Bays. 


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks to everyone who reviewed and for those of you who are not reviewing, PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW!! Thank you (!  
  
**  
  
Specs was so engulfed in reading that he didn't notice someone enter the cottage. He quickly shut the journal and spun around to see Clara staring back at him, fury growing in her eyes.  
  
"How much did you read?" Clara demanded as she yanked the journal out of Specs' hand.  
  
"Not much." Specs let out. He felt like an eight-year-old kid being admonished for breaking the family heirloom. He had just lost any hope of gaining any trust from the girl.  
  
"What possessed you to read someone's private thought's and feelings, let alone someone you don't even know!"  
  
"Look, I'm sorry for reading your journal it was wrong, but why do you push people away?"  
  
"What?" Clara had not expected Specs to retaliate with an argument of his own.  
  
"From what I've seen so far, you've pushed everyone away, even the people that you live with. Why?" Specs had become shocked at his newfound courage.  
  
"I…I…I don't know. Maybe I don't want to hurt people when I die." Anger no longer filled Clara's eyes. Tears threatened to spill over. "I just don't want to cause pain to anyone when I don't know if I'll die in a day, a week, a month, or a year." Clara spoke in between silent sobs. Specs wrapped his arms around the crying girl, surprised that Clara, the same girl who was yelling at him a few seconds ago, let him do so.  
  
After a few minutes of listening to Clara cry, Specs spoke up. "Before my mother died, I can remember her saying that when I was born, I was crying and everyone around me was smiling. I should live my life so that when I die, everyone around me is crying and I'm smiling. I think you should do that. Let people get to know you. They'll only get hurt because they love you." Specs looked down at the girl that rested on his chest. He smiled to himself when he realized that Clara had cried herself to sleep. Carefully picking her up, Specs carried dormant body over to her bed.  
  
Once she was safely under the thin blankets, Specs bent down and kissed her forehead knowing that she wouldn't remember it in the morning. As he turned to retire to his bed, the long trip finally catching up with him, he thought he heard Clara mumble something that sounded like, "Thank you, Matthew." 


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks for all the reviews.  
  
Disclaimer: I own everyone except for Matthew.  
  
  
  
The weeks, full of sleepless nights coughing up blood, flew by quickly. Christmas was just a week away. Clara had opened up to Specs but still kept her past locked away. He didn't push the subject fearing he would loose their already fragile friendship. Not much had changed in the past few weeks except for the fact that both Eric and Ashley lay cold in the ground.  
  
The more Specs hung around Clara, the more he fell in love with her. He didn't want to admit it yet, but he was head-over-heels in love with Clara. He was afraid if he did admit it that Clara might completely shut him out.  
  
That night, Specs sat in front of the dwindling fire watching his friend write. After a few moments, he decided to speak up.  
  
"Clara?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Do you ever think about what you'll do when you go home?"  
  
"What, my home in the dirt?" She said, never looking up from what she was writing.  
  
"No. I mean when you go back to your home in Manhattan?" Specs moved closer to Clara as he spoke.  
  
"I'm not going home. I'll be dead in a few weeks. No one ever survives."  
  
"Well I'll be the first then. I plan on getting better so I can go to my friend's wedding next July."  
  
"You do that then, Matthew."  
  
"Why do you keep calling me Matthew?" It's not the Specs didn't mind her calling him Matthew, he thought it sounded beautiful coming off of her lips.  
  
"Because I think it fits you better than Specs." Clara finally stopped writing and looked up. Her crystal sapphire eyes locked with Specs' soft brown eyes. Slowly, the two began to lean in. When their lips were just inches apart, Specs spoke up.  
  
"Clara?"  
  
"Hmm?" Her eyes fluttered open.  
  
"What happened to your husband?" Specs mentally kicked himself for ruining the moment. Clara stared at him with hurt and anger in her cold blue eyes.  
  
"I don't want to talk about it." Clara said as she stood up and walked over to her bed.  
  
"You can't keep living in the past Clara. You've got to move on." Specs moved to follow Clara hoping to break the wall she had put up.  
  
Clara spun around. Pain now filled her icy stare. "Maybe I prefer to live in the past. It helps keep my mind off of dying. Besides you wouldn't understand."  
  
"Try me Clara. My family died when I was nine. I spent three years living on the streets depending on the kindness of strangers and trying to stay out of the refuge until I became a newsy, so just try me Clara.  
  
Clara couldn't take the pressure. She wasn't ready to reveal her past. She took off out into the cold night. Specs followed her trying not to trip over anything as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Ahead of him Clara stopped to cough. He reached just as she was getting ready to take off again. Specs grabbed her arms and kissed her. He could taste the bittersweet blood on her lips.  
  
Clara stood in shock, but finally responded. She carefully wrapped her arms around his neck. The two stood there kissing oblivious to the falling snow that melted on their heated skin. After a few moments, the two broke away.  
  
"I'm sorry Clara. I didn't mean to push the subject." Specs held her tightly, never wanting to let her go.  
  
"It's ok Matthew. I guess I'm not ready to let go yet." Clara shivered suddenly realizing the cold that surrounded them.  
  
"Let's go back before we freeze to death."  
  
"Yeah." Clara let go of Specs and grabbed his hand. As they walked back, a coughing fit over took Clara. It was the worse she had ever experienced. Pain shot threw her chest with each cough, finally causing her to pass out.  
  
"No Clara. Not now." Specs bent down and picked up Clara' limp body. As quickly as he could, the former newsy carried the body to Mrs. Shepherd's cottage. "Mrs. Shepherd. Mrs. Shepherd. Please open up. Clara's in trouble." The elderly lady opened the door with concern on her face.  
  
"Take her to the bed. Amelia, get my kit." Mrs. Shepherd ordered as she started to work on the unconscious girl blocking Specs view of her. He was terrified of what might happen to his newfound love. She couldn't die now. It was too soon. As he worried, Specs began to cough. Pain ripped threw his lungs and chest to the point that his world was surrounded in complete darkness. He was going to join Clara soon. 


	6. Chapter 6

His eyelids slowly fluttered open to a girl placing a cold clothe on his forehead.  
  
"Oh good. You're awake. Mrs. Shepherd will be pleased. You've been out for several days now." Amelia spoke as she brought Specs a cup of tea.  
  
"What day is it?" Specs asked as he tried to sit up finding himself extremely sore.  
  
"It's Christmas Eve." Amelia said as she filled the syringe with Specs medicine. He flinched as the needle pinched his skin, a pain that he was starting to get use to.  
  
"Where's Clara?"  
  
"She's still in bed. Poor things not doing any better. No don't get up. You're still too weak to move around." Amelia scolded Specs as he tried to get out of bed.  
  
"But…"  
  
"No buts. You need to save your energy. Now drink this. It'll help you sleep soundly." And with that, Amelia left Specs to sleep.  
  
Making sure both Mrs. Shepherd and Amelia had left the cottage, Specs out of his bed. As soon as he stood up, he was greeted with lightheadedness. When he was sure he wasn't going to pass out, Specs made his way over to Clara's bed. Sympathy once again gripped his soul for the girl. She looked so lifeless lying there. Specs bent down next to her taking Clara's ice-cold hand in his.  
  
"Clara wake up. Please wake up." Tears filled the boys eyes as he talked to the lifeless girl. Slowly Clara's eyes fluttered open. Her once beautiful sapphire eyes where now dull with fatigue.  
  
"Hey Matthew." Her voice was so weak.  
  
"Hey Clara." Specs said trying to hold back his tears.  
  
"What day is it?"  
  
"Christmas Eve." He sniffled as he spoke. He didn't want her to die. Not yet.  
  
"It's Leah's Birthday." Clara passed for a moment before she spoke again. "I think I'm ready to let go." Clara slowly turned her head and looked out of the frosted window.  
  
"No Clara. You can't let go. Not yet." Specs pleaded with the girl.  
  
"No silly. I'm ready to let go of my past. My husband, Ian, I love him so much." Specs heart sank as Clara spoke. He carefully pulled her hand up to his lips as she continued. "He was my everything. Both him and Leah. We were married for a year and a half when he died. A carriage hit him on his way home from work; his death left an empty space in my heart. After his death, I thought I would never love another person. I had everything that I love ripped away from me within a few months. Everything that I lived for. Then you came along Matthew. You showed me how to live again.  
  
"Remember what you said the first day you were here about living your life so when you die, you are smiling and the people you love are crying?" Specs meekly nodded his head fighting the tears that threatened to spill over. "Well thanks to you I lived the remainder of my life like that."  
  
"No Clara. Please don't die. You need to get better so you can come live with me in Manhattan." Specs' tears now freely flowed down his face.  
  
"I can't Matthew. It's my time to go. Promise me one thing though."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Promise me that you'll take my journal to my little angle. Cause I know you'll get better. You have the will power to do so." Clara's eyes slowly began to shut as she finished talking.  
  
"I promise. Clara, please don't die now, please."  
  
"I love you Matthew." Clara's eyes shut for the final time. Her hand fell limp in Specs' hand.  
  
"No Clara. You can't. Wake back up. No Clara." Slowly Specs leaned down and kissed Clara's ice-cold lips as his tears fell on her colorless checks. "I love you too, Clara." 


	7. Epilogue

The carriage came to a sudden stop on the muddy Manhattan street. A boy got out of the carriage clutching something tightly to his chest. Carefully he knocked on the door of the building hoping he had the right address. A gray haired woman cam to the door.  
  
"Mrs. McArthur?"  
  
"Yes?" Mrs. McArthur became confused at how this boy knew her.  
  
"Hi. I'm Matthew Keller. I was a friend of your daughter while she was The Cottages." Mrs. McArthur's hand went up to her mouth in shock.  
  
"How long has she been dead?"  
  
"Since Christmas Eve." Specs stepped further into the light of the foyer removing his hat.  
  
"That's nearly six months ago. Why didn't anyone tell me sooner?"  
  
"I wanted to be the one to tell you when I brought you this." Specs handed the worn blue journal to Mrs. McArthur. Tears filled her eyes as she flipped threw it. "It's full of letters that Clara wrote to her daughter. It was her dying wish for me to bring it here."  
  
"Thank you so much for bringing it." Specs began to turn to leave when an idea popped into Mrs. McArthur's head. "Wait. You must be famished after such a long trip. Please stay for supper."  
  
"No. I wouldn't want to impose."  
  
"Pleas stay. It's the least I can do to thank you for bringing back Clara's journal." Before Specs could answer, a little girl came running down the hall on wobbly legs.  
  
"Grammy! Grammy!" The little girl stooped next to her grandmother when she noticed Specs. She walked over to Specs and pulled on his black pant leg. "Up! Up!"  
  
Specs bent down and picked up the girl. "Is this Leah?" He asked tickling the little girl's  
  
Side. She giggled in delight.  
  
"Yes it is. She looks exactly like her mother."  
  
Smiling to himself, Specs replied, "That she does. That she does." 


End file.
